Contents

Let's talk about sex, baby

Well, you see, kid, sex is a thing that two... uh, consenting adults, who are always very much in love, and always of the opposite gender... well, actually, I suppose you could both be boys and do it, I mean, men, not boys, you have to be men. Or girls? Or a boy and a girl. Man and a girl! Wait, no! Woman! Man and a woman! Or woman and woman, I won't judge.

Where was I going with this?

Let's talk about you and me

So the man and man or woman and woman or man and woman or a woman and a man get together, well, I guess that's really the same thing, man and woman and woman and man. Anyway, the man and woman or woman and man... well, you get what I mean. Anyway, they really really love each other, and lie down on a big bed, or sometimes the floor, or kitchen table, or midtown tunnel, and they... uh... take off all their clothes. Well, sometimes all their clothes. You could leave your shirts on. The shirt is really an optional thing. You don't need to take it off, but, I mean, that's really half the fun of sex. No one really has sex not to look at boobs, am I right, son? Am I right? C'mon, gimme five. Right?

Okay, moving along. So you have the girl--WOMAN, or man! so you have the (wo)man's pants off, and maybe their shirt too, and you say to them "Hey, maybe I think we should have sex now?" It's a reasonable question to ask, right? It's been six dates already, you've already rounded second on the last date and you figure maybe it's time to throw another bird in the bush, right? Oh, wait, we're not up to that part yet. Shit. I mean-- ugh, Christ, where the hell is that goddamn mother of yours anyway?

So if she says "Yes! Let's have sex!" then proceed to the next part; if she says "No! Tonight I would rather not have the sex," then abandon all hope. Help them put their clothes back on, take their manacles off, give them some money for a cab and a lollipop for their trouble, whatever you have to do to get your shoulda-been sex partner on his/her merry way. You got better things to do, and nobody likes a rapist. Except, uh, other rapists.

Let's talk about all the good things

It can also be like fingerless gloves, if you're into that kinky shit.

So... moving away from that... tangent... let's get back on topic. You're with your, uh, partner, and you're now both completely, or mostly, naked. So, you take your... uh... p-penis? I mean, you know what a penis is, right? You have one. Look down. There it is. We're all on the same page now, right?

Okay, so you take your penis, and you look at your partner and think "Man, they're really hot. I could really do something with this penis to them right now," and just thinking that will make the penis puff up and get hard with excitement. If that doesn't work, then just substitute something hotter in your mind, say, instead of thinking of your partner just lying there, imagine them wearing huge army boots, holding a fresh loaf of bread, making out with two baby pandas. Whatever floats your boat, I'm not here to judge.

So, when you're ready, you take your, uh, penis and you... you take it, and you, um. Well, you take it and you, well, you see, ladies don't have penises. But men do, if you're having sex with a man. Actually, I've changed my mind. At your age you shouldn't be having sex with men. I'm going back to "boy" from now on. So you're having sex with a boy, or lady, and you certainly can't stick your penis inside... uh... OKAY, just to not complicate things, we're going heteronormative. Sorry if you're gay, but you can just get your grandpa to talk to you about that. And where the hell is your mom, too?!

Anyway, girls have... uh... holes instead of penises. It's like God gave women gloves, and men put their hands inside of the gloves, except it's your penis instead of your hand, and the glove is made of meat and smells like Greenbaum's fish market. So, like a glove, you put on the glove with your penis, right? Well, it's actually more like a mitten. A meat mitten, right? I really should have thought of a better analogy before I started this. I'm so sorry, Brucie. Your mother really should tell you about this part, she's the one with the... glove anyway.

That's it, I'm calling her.

And the bad things that may be

Yeah, Goldie? Where are you? I'm here with the boy trying to explain, uh, some important things to him. Well yeah I think he's ready, I told you last week. Well I kind of assumed you were paying attention because I'm still your goddamn husband, right? I mean, at least in a technical sense. Could you just get here as soon as you can? I'm really behind schedule with this thing, I'm already supposed to be talking about AIDS and gonorrhea and all that bad shit right now.

He's gone. Please just come, okay? You can fuck your personal trainer later, at least try to help me out with at least one of Brucie's big moments, or else he'll grow up to be a spineless loser with a fucked up sex life. He'll make the same mistakes we made, show up to his son's bar mitzvah on coke and sleep with his cousin's--

GOD DAMN IT BRUCIE I SAID GET IN THE OTHER ROOM.

Great. Never mind. I give up. Say hi to Ryan for me. Ask him how your vagina is doing, since I'm worried his big muscular cock is going to-- hello? HELLO?

Hey, Brucie, get in here. Listen to me right now, and I mean this very very seriously, loud and clear: never, ever have sex. Your penis will fall off and you will die. Got it? Good.